


witness statement

by deuteroscopies



Series: the prophet and the king [19]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Image, Dress Up, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, Fashion & Couture, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Self-Esteem Issues, Shopping, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deuteroscopies/pseuds/deuteroscopies
Summary: What happened with Martin Adjaye: Freddie and Iann discovered that when Adjaye tortured and raped 17-year old Freddie, he implanted an ensorcelled blue diamond - the Bvlgari Blue - into the fairy boy to incubate and collect his life magic so that Martin could come back to collect it twenty years down the road and use it as a wand component to prolong his own vampire unlife and lucidity beyond the 500-year mark. Iann then proceeded to cut the jewel out of Freddie to give to Martin in a semi-successful ploy to solve the issue and keep the vampire from killing Freddie to get it, but as he didn't consult Freddie in the matter, things between them are strained, to say the least.Meanwhile, in Freddie's absence his girlfriend Elizabeth came to live in the house in Jamara despite her having been so upset about Freddie moving in with Ephram and Ruby that she'd initially broken up with Freddie about it. She hasn't explained why she moved in with them, but with all the concern over Martin Adjaye, Ephram's been trying to make it work even though Elizabeth makes it very clear that she resents his presence in Freddie's life.
Relationships: Freddie Watts/Ephram Pettaline
Series: the prophet and the king [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551673





	witness statement

**Author's Note:**

> > Freddie Watts = Tom Hardy FC, Ephram Pettaline = Boyd Holbrook FC. These stories are set in the supernatural town of Soapberry Springs, in the Pacific Northwest. Freddie is a fairy con man from London, with cobalt-coloured dragonfly wings and silver fairy dust, who has a Japanese Chin familiar named Oliver; Ephram is a witch from impoverished East Kentucky who shares his body with a demon called Anaxis and has green magic of his own.
>> 
>> [the prophet and the king 'verse tumblr](http://theprophetandtheking.tumblr.com/)  
> 

Ollie was already on his way back to Elizabeth’s office, having felt his fairy’s fresh emotional upheaval, when Freddie emerged out onto the street. And from his place about a half block away, the little Chin barked sharply to get his attention.  
  
Grateful to see his familiar, Freddie closed the gap between them quickly, and sighed. “Well, that went about as badly as it possibly could have,” he said, his voice rough, and thick with defeat. Ollie made a questioning noise, and the fairy just shook his head as they started to walk. “I mean, honestly? I don’t even know what to do anymore when it comes to Lizzie, mate. I don’t know if it’s me, or if it’s her - or the pair of us - I just-”  
  
“I can’t tell anymore if she actually loves me - or if she just loves that I’m _there_. I’m like her taser, or her flaming whiskey - I just… serve my fucking purpose.”  
  
They made their way through the run-down streets of the Vinegar Tom district, Freddie glad for the fresh air, and the company; too beaten down to say much, but happy to let Ollie lead them in whatever direction took his fancy. He was so lost in his own painful muddled thoughts, in fact, that he didn’t realize - until they’d been walking for upwards of an hour, and were nearly on the doorstep - that Ollie had been operating with a very specific destination in mind.  
  
He’d brought them to the Soapberry Springs Sheriff Department.  
  
Freddie sighed heavily, and looked down at his friend, who gazed back up at him with no shame at all. “At this point you’re not even bothering to pretend to hide your little meddling agenda, are you?” he asked.  
  
Ollie just stared back at him unmoved, perfectly confident in what his fairy needed, and Freddie rolled his eyes. “No, of course you’re not. You never do. Because you think you bloody know everything.”  
  
He looked wistfully over at the front doors though, knowing that Ephram, and comfort, were just inside - and then sighed again, shooting his familiar a frustrated look. “You do know he’s working, yeah? That he can’t just take time out of his day because my feelings are hurt? He’s a copper - he’s got cases, and victims, and police work to sort. I mean, fucking hell, Ollie…”  
  
But Oliver was already on his way up the front steps, and slipping past an elderly woman in a fur hat to get inside - effectively forcing Freddie to follow him. Which, of course, was really what the fairy had _wanted_ to do all along. He just hadn’t wanted to _admit_ it.  
  
Which meant, Freddie knew, that there’d be no living with the furry little bastard after this.  
  
But there was nothing to be done for it now. Nodding at the front desk receptionist as he stepped inside, the fairy sat down in the waiting area next to the seat that Ollie was already occupying.  
  
“I would’ve lived,” he said quietly.  
  
But Ollie just hmphed, and butted his head against his fairy’s elbow; Freddie grudgingly reaching over to ruffle the little Chin’s ears. “But we’re not staying, alright?” he said, “He’s busy, and I’m a grown man, and he can’t fix this. It just is what it is; and no amount of whinging is going to change that. So I’ll just mooch a kiss, and say hello, and that’s all.”  
  
Sighing again, Freddie pulled out his phone, and sent Ephram a text: _Got a minute for company, sweetheart? I’m just outside your door_.  
  
The ping of the text made Ephram jump, startled and slightly guilty – he’d been wool-gathering in his office, which was his work equivalent of an afternoon nap. In the midst of focused work he found it was an effective way to recharge; to sit and sip coffee and drowse over things that he liked thinking about. Today it was the things he’d gotten his glamoured-to-be-Freddie fairies to do when he visited the gentleman’s club, silly run of the mill sexy things, which was why the text startled him more than it would have.  
  
Seeing that it was his very _own_ Freddie, Ephram sprang up from the desk and loped over to throw open the door. “Hi, honey,” he said warmly, manhandling Freddie up into a hug. “And good afternoon to you, sir,” he said to Ollie, with a grin. But the little Chin didn’t respond in his usual indulgent fashion and instead gave a high yip, the kinds dogs used to alert somebody to something worrisome going on.  
  
And when Ephram pulled back a bit from Freddie and saw his face, he realized what that worrisome thing was.  
  
Kissing Freddie’s forehead, he called to the receptionist, “Hold my calls unless it’s a real hell emergency.” With an arm tight around Freddie, Ephram drew him into the office and shut the blinds with a lick of green magic, making the room soundproof. He’d boasted about that trick to Freddie when he’d figured it out, and Freddie had called him oh so clever ... and insisted on testing it by sucking Ephram off under his desk.  
  
But that was a memory for another time. Right now, Ephram brought Freddie over to the art deco leather sofa he’d chosen for his office, drawing his fairy down onto it. “What happened?” he asked, mind racing through the possibilities. “Adjaye?…”  
  
As soon as Ephram opened his door, all long limbs, and golden glow, exuding the sort of strength and dependability that his position required, Freddie knew that Ollie had been right to bring him here. That proximity to his husband alone would be enough to ease some of the ache brought about by this latest low point with Elizabeth - and he went into Ephram’s arms gladly, returning the hug, and murmuring, “Hello, darling. We’re not interrupting anything, are we?”  
  
But then Ephram was addressing Ollie, and to Freddie’s unmitigated shock, the fairy found himself tossed - by his closest friend in the world, no less - directly under the proverbial bus.  
  
“You absolute bastard,” he breathed, just gaping at his familiar, “You fuzzy little horror; I’ll murder you…”  
  
Ollie though, remained unmoved and unapologetic, and just watched, with the calm of the morally righteous, as Ephram kissed Freddie, and ordered his calls held; the witch wasting no time in bringing him into his office and sitting him down to get to the heart of the matter. And as the door shut behind them, the little Chin laid down in his chair, keeping a weather eye on the low-level bustle of the station. Freddie was in good hands now, and, as such, Ollie could indulge in a little judgmental people-watching. His favourite pastime.  
  
Inside the office, however, the fairy in question was busy hating himself for bringing yet another problem to the man he loved; wanting desperately to lie and knowing that he couldn’t.  
  
“No, love,” he said softly, “It’s not Martin. I just… I had a row - sort of a row, I suppose; I don’t even know anymore - with Lizzie… And it’s doing my head in.” He paused for a moment as everything he’d felt in her office washed over him again - and then he gave himself a shake, reminding himself that none of this was news. “But it’s just more of the same, sweetheart. It’s not even worth mentioning.” Freddie sighed. “Ollie’s just a fucking alarmist now, thanks to everything else; and anything that upsets me he thinks needs to be brought to you to solve. It’s bloody ridiculous.”  
  
“Things with Lizzie are just…” Freddie started, his voice low and strained; and then he shook his head, reaching up to touch Ephram’s face, and leaning in to kiss his mouth softly. “Never mind. It just is what it is, and I shouldn’t be dropping it in your lap anyway, love. I’m sorry.”  
  
“I mean, I honestly feel like all I do anymore is moan,” he said, huffing out a weak-sounding chuckle, “You’ll be sick of the sound of my voice soon. Which is why Ollie and I should get on, yeah? Leave you to finish up here so that you can be home in time for dinner? I thought I’d cook tonight, since Ruby’s been so busy at the centre…”  
  
Truth be told, Freddie was hoping at the same time that Elizabeth wouldn’t come back to Jamara until much later, so that he could avoid her for a while - but that much he kept to himself.  
  
“Wait, what?” Ephram shook his head, baffled by Freddie’s scattered, fractured sentences and sentiments. “What’s more of the same? What’s going on with Elizabeth?”  
  
Ephram glanced towards the door, even more sure now that Oliver had brought Freddie here for a very _distinct_ purpose, delivered the fairy to his husband to figure it out. It was a purpose that Ephram was more than eager to fulfill, especially since he felt a tinge of pride at Ollie entrusting him with Freddie’s well-being.  
  
“Don’t do that,” Ephram said firmly. “Don’t downplay what you’re feeling. Have I ever minded having you in my lap before?” He jostled Freddie gently, hoping the slight tease would make the situation seem less stilted and awkward. Smoothing Freddie’s hair back, Ephram kissed his forehead again and said, “So go on, then. Start at the beginning, dumplin’. I got nothin’ but time for you.”  
  
What Freddie had begun with had puzzled Ephram, though, so he started there himself: “I thought things with you and Elizabeth were good? I thought that was why she wanted to stay with us. No? That ain’t it? Tell me what’s going on with you two, I wanna hear it. Please.”  
  
Freddie gave Ephram a small wan smile at the teasing, and sighed, murmuring, “No… you haven’t,” before taking a bit of a breath, caught somewhere between reluctance to speak - not wanting to burden his husband with unsolvable problems, or to complain unfairly about things that he knew Elizabeth didn’t intend to be hurtful - and the deep desire to just get it all out. To say out loud what he’d quietly felt for ages now.  
  
Ephram would be honest with him, he knew. Ephram would tell him if he was overreacting, or expecting too much. If he was being selfish and awful without realizing it.  
  
And Ephram would do it gently.  
  
“Things with Lizzie are…” Freddie started, and then he stopped again, letting out another sigh, “ _Good_ isn’t the word I would use, no. Though maybe that’s unfair… because they’re not bad, exactly - not terrible - I just…It’s just always been like this,” the fairy said, resignedly. “Ever since the first time she finished with me. There’s just… two sets of rules, yeah? What Lizzie’s allowed, and what I’m allowed. And they’re very different things.”  
  
“She doesn’t trust me,” Freddie went on softly, “And I understand that - to a certain extent. She’s been hurt, and she feels like I lied to her once - and she knows my history, so she’s pegged me as fundamentally deceitful since the word go - but I’ve tried to show her that where you all are concerned, none of that applies. That I would never-” He cut himself off again. “But it doesn’t seem to matter. She just automatically assumes the worst; no matter how many times I prove her wrong. And-”  
  
“And I don’t know how to do any better. She just needs so _much_ , sweetheart… and all I ever seem to do is let her down.”  
  
Freddie went quiet for a moment, a frustrated shadow crossing his face, and tightened his jaw slightly. “But at the same time, it’s like she’s only interested in me in terms of what I can _give_ to her. I’m just this… _thing_ , she’s collected. This ‘boyfriend’ who’s there solely to tell her how wonderful she is, and how much he loves her. To support her, and cater to her, and fuck her when she wants it - and in return, she only has to chuck me on the chin and tell me she thinks I’m alright.”  
  
The fairy scrubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head with another sigh. “God. That’s unfair. I mean, she loves me; she tells me she loves me - _now_ , any road - it’s just hard to wonder sometimes if she only loves me because I love her. Because it feels like-”  
  
Freddie looked up into his husband’s eyes. “It feels like she barely knows me, Ephram. Our entire relationship is about _her_ , and always has been. She barely ever asks me about myself, and when she does - when I tell her _anything_ at all; facts or feelings - it all just comes back to how it affects her. How _she_ feels about it, how it relates to _her_. Like when she told me all that hateful ridiculous rubbish about her perception of you… She seemed so stunned that I was appalled, and livid - like she was shocked that I’d have any feelings about it at all. It was about _her_. She spewed all this vicious warped shit at me, and then thought we’d just go to bed; both of us glad that she’d taken such a big step and shared with me.”  
  
“My feelings are incidental - unless they’re about her. She just… absorbs, dismisses, and moves on to the next.”  
  
“Which is what you do when you’re young, I know… but lately, it’s just- it’s harder to take. Especially now, when I’m…” Freddie dropped his eyes again, “…when I’m not quite where I should be yet. After… well…. everything.”  
  
“Lizzie’s life is just one long emergency anymore,” the fairy said quietly, “-and I want to help her; to be there for her; I’m trying - but I just don’t know if I have it in me. I barely made it through Christmas Eve… I felt so awful, but I just… I had to come home.” Ephram, of course, was unaware of the details of Freddie’s night with Elizabeth, before he’d come home to Jamara at three a.m; but now that the dam had crumbled, everything was just pouring out.  
  
“I mean, if I could understand some of how she felt, then maybe I could do better for her,” Freddie went on, “-but she doesn’t tell me _anything_. It’s like pulling teeth. And I can accept that - I can take what’s offered and work with it - but it’s the deliberate obfuscation that I can’t handle…”  
  
“Like today. I went to see her at her office - because it’s so strange having her at the house; it’s so… awkward, and stressful, and I bloody _hate_ it - and we were talking, and I asked what she was working on- and she lied to me. She _lied_ , and then she deliberately tried to manipulate me - asked me if I wanted to _marry_ her - just so that she wouldn’t have to tell me the truth. After Iann, and Martin… she still just did it like it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter. But if _I’d_ done that…” He trailed off and just shook his head again.  
  
Freddie’s voice was soft and flat when he carried on again. “She ended up having a panic attack when she finally did tell me what was going on, and we got her through it - but after that I just had to leave. I couldn’t take one more apology. Being sorry doesn’t matter if nothing ever changes. But that’s why she’s at the house, love,” he said tiredly, his eyes bruised and wounded when he met Ephram’s again. “It’s got nothing to do with us - with _me_ \- and everything to do with the fact that she’s got her own reasons for not wanting to be alone right now.”  
  
“So everything’s awful… and I’m probably the most selfish man alive for complaining when she’s been through so much… but I just don’t know what to do anymore.”  
  
“Oh,” Ephram said when Freddie wound to an exhausted close. “Oh, angel.”  
  
The truth was, he was stunned by the breadth of Freddie’s confession, the obvious toll that the situation had taken on his husband. And realizing that Freddie had been keeping this to himself all this time, putting on a brave front despite the horrendous trauma he’d just been through, was absolutely gutting.  
  
“I had no idea,” Ephram said, rubbing the back of his head in agitation. “Baby, I thought it was good with you two! I thought … I guess I thought you two had a lot in common, and you could indulge in that when you was with her. I thought–” Ephram shook his rumpled head firmly. “It don’t matter what I thought. You just opened my eyes to the truth of it, and that was real brave of you, honey. I know you must hate having to tell me bad stuff about you and Elizabeth.”  
  
Easing his way up, Ephram brought them back mugs of warm water and settled down again as he handed one to Freddie. “Okay,” he said, less rattled by the immediate shock of what Freddie had revealed. “Okay. First of all, you ain’t selfish for wanting your lover to cherish you, much less actually acknowledge that you need basic care and support. And it ain’t a comparison, awright?” His eyes narrowed slightly at the notion. “Yeah, Elizabeth’s been through a lot of terrible shit. So have you. I mean, Jesus Christ, Freddie – you’re coming off the tail end of being terrorized by the man who abused and raped you when you weren’t no more than a child and used your body for twenty-odd years without you knowing it. The level of fuckin’ violation you’re having to deal with is – it’s astronomical, is what it is.” As he spoke, Ephram’s voice dipped lower, colder, steel entering his words.  
  
“I could tell Elizabeth’s the needy sort. And there ain’t nothin’ wrong with being needy, but there sure as fuck is with being a … a vampire. An emotional vampire, draining you out and never giving anything back. Not even trust, after all this time, after how much you been there for her even when you’re walking wounded.” Ephram could feel silver fury congealing in his guts, the hair raising on his arms as he talked his way through this. How could Elizabeth be so rampantly cruel to Freddie? She’d been cruel to Ephram, but the witch figured that was due to childish jealousy and resentment. He’d been on the receiving end of denigration plenty of times when other people wanted to make themselves feel superior, and he’d recognized it easily enough.  
  
But this. For her to be wantonly greedy for Freddie’s enormous capacity for love and generosity and then give him nothing back? To grab everything he could offer her and treat him as a nothing, untrustworthy and insufficient and insignificant, even knowing the objectification that Freddie had known for most of his life? It was unthinkable. It was monstrous, her cavernous need and cavalier dismissal of Freddie.  
  
Freddie accepted the mug of water Ephram gave him, murmuring, “Thank-you, love,” but he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet his husband’s eyes. Because brave was absolutely the last thing he felt, sitting there.  
  
Guilt, disloyalty, shame…. those were all much easier to access.  
  
He flinched slightly at the word ‘rape’, when Ephram said it, still uncomfortable acknowledging that _that_ was what Martin had done to him; but he stayed quiet, just holding his cup, as Ephram went on, deeply touched by his witch’s anger on his behalf - by the strength of Ephram’s conviction and support - and, at the same time, feeling wholly undeserving of it.  
  
“She doesn’t mean it,” he said softly, “I mean, it’s not… it’s not malicious. She just… can’t see past herself sometimes. Most of the time,” he amended with a sigh. “But you’ve said it yourself, love - she’s so young… so maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m just expecting too much of her…”

Ephram set his mug down and took Freddie by the shoulders, wanting his beloved fairy to look at him. “Elizabeth finally found someone who was sympathetic to her plight and wanted to help her and love her, and instead of being glad for it, instead of trying to be a partner and support to you in return, she’s taken and taken and _taken_ even when you’re drained. And withheld from you, and gas-burnered you–” Ephram had only a vague notion of the term gaslight although he understood the concept, “–and outright fuckin’ lied to you.”  
  
The sheer heartlessness of asking Freddie about marriage as nothing more than a cold-blooded attempt at diversion made Ephram’s skin flush in hot, disgusted anger. Freddie, who’d known nothing but loneliness and being used and discarded his whole life. Who was only now starting to accept that he was even worthy of being loved, who did his level best to make sure Elizabeth didn’t feel second-best while she made him feel like a disposable fuck-pet who constantly let her down.  
  
For a moment, Ephram couldn’t catch his breath. The level of abuse that Freddie’d been subject to from this self-centred, dismissive and manipulative little chit enraged him from the core of his being. She strung him along, refusing to even share information that would allow Freddie to help her. Keeping him dangling, needing him to be constantly on-call to attend to her needs and emergencies and the spectacle of Elizabeth’s Unending Pain. Which Freddie had devotedly kept to himself, taking the blame for Elizabeth’s refusal to treat him with any decency, her forever problems.  
  
Well. Now Ephram knew. And he was certain that this was only the barest detail, only as much as Freddie felt he could say without ‘betraying’ Elizabeth’s grotesque need for her own secrets to remain sacrosanct. “Freddie,” Ephram said, “you been set up for failure here. She don’t want help. She wants an audience and she wants you to just be another of her secrets, because you’re beautiful and generous and you fuckin’ turn yourself inside out trying to make your loved ones happy.” His lip curled in a growl, eyes flashing. “You been through this kind of dehumanization and abuse before, was raised in it. Which makes it easy for her to take advantage of you. She got you already primed to be used up and put away starved and unappreciated when she don’t need you.” Ephram’s grip on Freddie tightened as his breathing sped up into inflamed rapidity, feral and outraged.  
  
This couldn’t – it _wouldn’t_ – go on. Not for one moment more.  
  
The fairy just stared into his mug, not even sure where he'd been going with all that, when suddenly Ephram’s hands were on his shoulders and he was being made to look up into his husband’s eyes - and the instant he did, he realized precisely how everything he’d just said had sounded.  
  
And he was ashamed all over again.  
  
But he didn’t look away. Didn’t try to argue as Ephram told him that he’d done nothing wrong; that he deserved better than what he’d been given; explaining that what Freddie had been given hadn’t just fallen short of care - it had become toxic.  
  
There was a ferocity burning in Ephram’s eyes as he spoke, a sense of protective outrage so strong he nearly bristled with it - and again, Freddie was awestruck by the fact that someone could care for him this way.  
  
That his feelings, his treatment at the hands of the world, could matter so much.  
  
That _he_ could matter so much.  
  
And he knew, deep down, that Ephram was right - on some level he’d known it for a while now - so the fairy nodded reluctantly; still having no idea what came next, or what he should do.  
  
“I don’t think she set out to tear you down.” Ephram stroked Freddie’s hair, his burning eyes still fixed on his fairy’s face. “But you know as well as I do that being put through shit don’t mean you gotta take it out on other people. It ain’t expecting too much to be treated with respect and care. Being young can only excuse so much, ain’t that right.”  
  
He drew Freddie close again, gearing down slightly so that he could be more comforting instead of at peak outrage. “I’ll make sure she’s out of the house, don’t you worry bout that,” he promised. “You won’t have to worry bout her for a while. I’ll take care of it all.” This proclamation did sound rather sinister, Ephram realized with wry amusement; exactly what Elizabeth had predicted would come to pass, if you chose to hear it that way: Ephram deciding that he wanted her gone. Except that what he was doing was what _Freddie_ wanted, and needed, and he certainly had no intention to physically harm Elizabeth.  
  
She was young. If there was anything Ephram was sympathetic to, it was that. But it wasn’t enough for him to put aside what Elizabeth had done – had _been_ doing – to Freddie this whole time, breaking him down bit by bit while Ephram was working tirelessly and with all his heart to build Freddie back up. Tender work, a job he loved and did with care and gratitude, but to have Elizabeth taking a crowbar to it behind the scenes was devastating. For Freddie _and_ for Ephram, having to discover it when the damage had spread too far for his husband to glamour over.  
  
“What d’you wanna do now, sweetie?” Ephram asked. “I don’t mean just about Elizabeth. I’ll deal with that as much or as little as you want me to. I just mean, you, Freddie, what would _you_ like. What can I do to help you feel better. You just gotta ask, baby.”  
  
Freddie settled against Ephram’s chest, and sighed. “I know,” he said, “I think I’m just so used to making excuses for her to myself that now I’m making them to you too. She’s told me for ages that she doesn’t know how to take care of anyone, and I suppose I’ve just… allowed that to be good enough. Even when I know that it shouldn’t be.”  
  
“I just honestly thought that if I loved her enough - if I did it properly - she’d sort of… pick it up as we went along.” He sighed again. “Sounds a bit stupid though, when I say it out loud.”  
  
But when Ephram said he’d sort it, that he’d handle everything, including asking Elizabeth to leave their house again, Freddie looked up at him gratefully; nearly undone by the sudden rush of love he felt for his husband. “Will you really?” he asked, “Ephram, that’s-” He cut himself off, then took a deep breath. “Thank-you, sweetheart,” he said softly, “I’d appreciate that very much. Because I don’t think I’d be able to manage it at this point; I’d just make a mess of things…”  
  
“And honestly, what I want to do now,” he went on with a sigh, “-is to stop being such a bloody liability, before I drive you and Ruby both mad.” He gave Ephram a sad little smile. “But I’ll be alright, love. You’ve already made me feel worlds better.” Sitting up straighter, Freddie kissed Ephram gently on the mouth. “I can’t ask you to do anything more than that.”  
  
“Well,” Ephram said, “can’t say as I could ever blame a body for hoping that love is gonna help make things better. Just sometimes it needs a lil something else, too.” He petted Freddie some more as his husband thanked him for offering to deal with Elizabeth-related things from now on, frankly glad that Freddie trusted him with this instead of feeling that he had to do it himself. Ephram had seen people in deep, deep burnout before and Freddie was there.  
  
“You’re never a liability, come on now,” he chided gently. “Don’t start that game, darlin', because I got a demon inside me can finish it.” Ephram screwed his mouth to the side, ducking his chin to look at Freddie from under his furrowed forehead. “Ain’t nobody can win that contest with me, y’hear?”  
  
Chuckling, Ephram patted Freddie’s thigh and stood up. “C’mon,” he said, tipping his head towards the door. “We’re gonna go out and do something together.” Ephram went to his closet and changed out of his police blues, tugging on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that was somewhat on the small side for him. Slinging on a leather jacket with it, he grinned at Freddie and said, “You, Mr. Watts, are gonna kit out your poor country husband for the gala I expect to be whisked off to. We gotta make up for New Years somehow, right?” Ephram moved over to Freddie, jostling against him like a happy dog. “I want to to spiff me up so’s you can take me out and show me off.”  
  
Duly chastised once Ephram brought up the demon, Freddie leaned up and kissed his husband again, murmuring, “I’m sorry, love. I’m just tired - and frustrated. I’m used to being able to will myself better when things go wrong.” He smiled though, wrung out and worse for wear, but heartened by the knowledge that the man in front of him was _his_ , and loved him regardless of the weaknesses he’d already exposed - sometimes willingly, sometimes not. “But I’ll be fine. I always am.”  
  
And when Ephram stood up, saying they were going out, Freddie felt some of the lingering tension in his chest - the pain of what had happened with Elizabeth - ebb away. “Alright,” he said, smiling softly and standing up himself; watching with appreciation as Ephram changed his clothes, his eyes as hungry as ever where his husband was concerned. But when Ephram had finished dressing, Freddie couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose slightly at the state of his witch’s shirt.  
  
“Where in the world did this thing come from?” he asked reaching out and tugging at the hem when Ephram moved closer, “And how did it survive my raid on your closet? I was merciless… I thought I’d got everything.”  
  
Glancing over at Ephram’s work closet though, Freddie looked up at him with glint of mischief in his eyes - not quite at its usual power, maybe, but still present, still there - a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ahh… I see how it is. So what else have you got hidden in there, eh?” he asked, nodding at the as-yet-uninspected cupboard, “What horrible affronts to fashion are you protecting from me?”  
  
Pulling Ephram down into another kiss, Freddie sucked gently at his husband’s lower lip, and then let him go again. “Just know that I’m coming back with a warrant,” he promised, “And that the polyester in there is living on borrowed time.”  
  
Ephram, of course, had no love lost for New Year’s Eve, or fancy parties - such things often left him feeling wrong-footed and uneasy, as a matter of fact - and Freddie knew it. He knew that all of this was for _him_ \- to distract him, and amuse him, to take his mind off everything that hurt - and he loved Ephram fiercely for it; vowing to show him just how much before the evening was through.  
  
“But alright, poor country husband - let’s go,” the fairy said, zipping his husband’s jacket up over the offending garment with a flourish, “By the time I’m done with you, galas three states away’ll be clamouring to get you on their guest list.” He grinned. “And I intend to show you off at every possible opportunity.”  
  
“That’s right,” Ephram confessed with not a hint of remorse, “I got clothes squirreled away in here that was safe from your rampage through the rest of my closet. All the really good stuff that you never liked, I took em and brought em here.” He reached in to tug out a particularly awful jacket in faded maroon denim, constructed like it was meant for some demented motorcycle gang, pleather lining the collar. In all honesty Ephram had stopped wearing the thing long ago, but Freddie’s reaction had tickled him so much that he kept it just so he could cheer himself up by looking at it.  
  
He happily leaned into Freddie’s kiss, not straightening up when his fairy let go. “You’ll never catch em alive, copper,” he sneered. “That there polyester’s gonna be down in Mexico with a new identity and you’ll never find it.” He made a noise of protest when Freddie zipped him up tight, concealing the kelly-green shirt with an iron-on green pumpkin on the front, but made no move to undo it. Being scolded by his husband for his … eccentric dress sense was one of Ephram’s favourite things.  
  
And he liked hearing Freddie say that he’d show him off. For Ephram to display Freddie proudly was a given; he was a creature whose gleam and glitter only magnified under admiration, flawless from every angle. Ephram was pretty sure that even groomed and dressed and detailed down to the last button, he’d look exactly like what he was –  
  
“This is gonna be like putting a ribbon bow on a cowpat, you know that,” he said good-naturedly as they headed out of the station. “I’m gonna present you the biggest challenge you ever faced. Just call me Mr. Sow’s Ear.” Ephram wrapped an arm around Freddie, kissing the tip of that pointed ear with a chuckle.   
  
Ephram had grown tall and strung with workhorse muscle, a far cry from the sylph of a boy he’d been, but every now and again he wanted to be fussed around, docile and biddable. And Freddie was so solid against him for all his delicate bits, the ear-tips and the wings and the sweet ripe mouth, in maddening contrast with the bulk of muscle that Ephram was running his hand along as they walked. He couldn’t stop, really, thrilled at the feel of how strong his husband’s body was, and he dug against Freddie a little more.  
  
“Sweetheart,” Freddie started, “-if it actually was ‘really good stuff’, I’d have let you keep it. But the things I got rid of were crimes against couture - and the sighted. They were-” The fairy cut off and made a horrified face at the emergence of the maroon jacket when Ephram brought it out. “Fucking hell -that thing was hidden at the bottom of a bag destined for the charity shop months ago. I knew I should have burnt it when I had the chance.”  
  
He grinned, “And I don’t care if you set that rubbish up disguised as something Carlo Brandelli would be proud of, nothing that hideous can hide from me forever. Even if I have to extradite it back from Juarez in order to make my case.”  
  
As they passed through the waiting area on the way out, Ollie hopped down off his chair, and fell into step beside them; Freddie muttering, “If you gloat, even a little, I’m going to put gum in your fur while you sleep,” before turning his attention back to his husband. Smiling at the little kiss to his ear, he dug his fingers into Ephram’s side, as both a warning, and a punishment, for what he considered a ridiculous and uncalled for amount of humility, and gave a very Ollie-like snort of disapproval.  
  
“That’s just bollocks,” he said, “You’re neither a cowpat, nor a sow’s ear - and the next time I hear you attempt to peddle that nonsense where I can hear it, I’m going to pinch your nipples till you cry, yeah?”  
  
“Because for one, I’ve got absolutely brilliant taste in men, so your theory’s already all full of holes right from the start. And for another, we have mirrors in our house, darling,” the fairy grinned, “-and you’ve seen how bloody gorgeous you are on more than one occasion - so try again.”

“Till I cry!” Ephram repeated, astonished. “That’s a helluva threat there, dumplin’. How d’you know I won’t enjoy it?”

Freddie laughed at Ephram’s shock over his threat, warmed from the inside out by the endearment just like always, and said, “Oh, shut it. I’m rubbish at threats where you’re concerned. But I’ll find something, and then you’ll be sorry, yeah?” His eyes sparkled, and he leaned up to nip lightly at the underside of Ephram’s jaw. “I might still pinch your nipples though. Just for fun.”

The compliments that Freddie was heaping on him were heady and irresistible, and Ephram lapped them up greedily even as he turned pink under the admiration. “I do spiff up nice sometimes, awright,” he admitted. “Just I get worried sometimes that I scare people, being tall as I am and scruffy as I am.”

Freddie had to frown as his husband went on, voicing his concerns about scaring people; knowing all too well where _that_ particular worry had sprung from: Elizabeth’s idiotic assertion that Ephram was somehow a mass murderer waiting to happen.  
  
“Listen to me,” Freddie said, stopping them for a moment on the sidewalk, “-because this is important, darling, alright? Anyone, and I mean _anyone_ , with an ounce of common sense - anyone with the _slightest_ ability to read people, who actually took the time to look you in the eye - would never be frightened of you. Your eyes let people know who you are, Ephram - and you’re absolutely the finest man I’ve ever known.”  
  
“And I’d think so even if you _weren’t_ the love of my life.”  
  
A few beats passed, to underline the seriousness of his point, and then fairy grinned. “And on top of that, height like yours is sexy, and scruffiness is incredibly fashionable.” He slipped his arm around Ephram’s waist again as they pressed on into Sackesugar, leaning closer to murmur, “So there, eh?” into his husband’s ear.

"So there," Ephram echoed, intensely grateful for Freddie's willingness to keep reassuring him that Elizabeth's repeated insistence that Ephram was a violent assault waiting to happen, a grenade without a pin, was nothing more than her mean-spirited campaign against him at work. “What else do I need to know, anyhow? How to foxtrot? Or how to eat caviar? Tell me what I’m supposed to do at one’a them fancy parties other’n decorate your arm, handsome.”

They walked on, Freddie intent on leading Ephram to the few menswear boutiques in Sackesugar that he favoured - nowhere in Soapberry was quite up to his standards and preferences, and he still ordered most things online, or wheedled Ephram into driving him into Seattle; but there were one or two places that he found serviceable in a pinch - and Freddie laughed, shaking his head, enjoying the way that Ephram was touching him.  
  
“No, sweetheart,” he said, “-you don’t need to learn to foxtrot; your natural rhythm will more than suffice. Since you _will_ be expected to dance - because I like to, and because its absolutely the best way to show an entire room full of people how utterly green with envy they should be feeling.”

He rubbed the backs of his fingers along his beard with a hum, but was distracted when Freddie cleared up the matter of the dancing. “You know the only natural rhythm I got is doing jigs to keep warm in winter, right? Ephram chortled, bending his head to dig his nose against Freddie’s heavy shoulder like some love-starved giraffe.

Ollie trotted carefully on ahead of them, sidestepping the worst of the slush, already having sussed out their intended destination; and Freddie snorted at Ephram’s claim of his limited rhythm, grinning at the way he was nuzzled, and giving his witch a tickling squeeze. “Oi, excuse you,” he protested, “Sell that ‘no rhythm’ nonsense to someone who hasn’t experienced yours personally.”  
  
“Your body already knows exactly what to do when it’s pressed up against mine, love - we’ve just never set it music before…”  
  
The afternoon sun was sinking as they made their way through Soapberry’s streets, the air brisk and cold - and Freddie found himself feeling calmer than he had in ages. It was lovely.  
  
“I wouldn’t worry about caviar though, darling,” the fairy went on, “At parties like that, as a rule of thumb, the sheer size of the guest list is enough to mean that if caviar is served, it won’t be the best - with some very specific exceptions - and therefore shouldn’t be bothered with. Your odds of quality are much better at private parties. If you want to try some though, I’ll order some Almas, and we’ll have it at home.”  
  
Cuddling Ephram closer as they walked, he murmured, “So really, all you’ll ever need to do at that sort of a function is enjoy yourself, love - and maybe let me do unspeakable things to you in the cloakroom. I don’t give a toss about anything else.”  
  
The information about the caviar soon distracted Ephram from anything else and he listened, entranced, as Freddie smoothly took him through the ins and outs of savvy partygoing among the rich and beautiful. It was breathtaking, really, to listen to how his husband had these bits of information at his fingertips, part of a bottomless catalogue of facts that Freddie had instant access to. Ephram’s eyes were shining with admiration by the time Freddie offered breezily to acquire them some kind of caviar that Ephram assumed was from a silver and sapphire fish at the very least, and he made a pleased little purring noise as Freddie tucked him closer. “That sounds good,” he sighed, utterly content. “The caviar and you debauching me in the coatroom.”

Approaching the shop that Freddie had in mind, Gerhard & Park - he’d already bought Ephram a few things there, and was fairly confident he could find a few more; including a new suit or two - the fairy nodded at it, and said, “This is our first stop, I think.”  
  
Ollie keeping pace with them, Freddie led Ephram inside and smiled at the first member of the sales staff he saw, beckoning the young man over. “Hello, love,” he said, “We’re going to need a bit of assistance this evening, if you’ve got the time. Nothing too taxing - fetching and carrying mostly; sizes, colours, that sort of thing.” He laughed lightly, with just a hint of self-deprecation, confiding, “Honestly, I’m a bit of a nightmare, really; so it’s best to just leave me to my own fussy little devices. We’ll just have a bit of a look around, and then call you when my husband’s ready to start trying things on, yeah?”  
  
Freddie smiled again, giving Ephram a squeeze, and surreptitiously glancing at the young man’s name-tag for future reference, telling him, “Cheers, love. Don’t go far,” before turning his attention back to his witch and drawing him deeper into the store with a grin.  
  
“I’m thinking we’ll start with socks and work up, sweetheart; what do you think?”  
  
By the time they reached the store and its imposingly upscale front, Ephram was feeling so petted and safe that he didn’t feel the trepidation that he might have at another time. He felt sheltered by Freddie’s incredible confidence as his fairy swept into the store, taking charge immediately of their experience and making his charming demands with a faint imperiousness that echoed Ollie’s general attitude.  
  
Staring around at everything, Ephram nodded when Freddie proposed their plan of attack. “Honey,” he said, “you can work me whatever direction you want. I’m all yours.”  
  
Now he _did_ feel a little bashful, but in truth Ephram liked the feeling. His handsome, wealthy, fit husband dressing him up to be taken out somewhere fancy? It was like a fairy tale. Actually, it _was_ exactly a fairy tale, Ephram thought, leaning forward to kiss Freddie with a smile.  
  
Once they were inside the store, the fairy could barely contain his growing excitement at finally being able to shop for Ephram properly - the prospect all the sweeter by actually having his sweetheart _there_ to participate. So he returned Ephram’s kiss happily, and took his husband’s hand, leading him over to the section that displayed things like socks and underwear; going through it all like a kid in a candy shop.  
  
He quickly selected a half dozen pairs of Falke socks - three cashmere, three silk - and then began to hold various colors and styles of underwear up against Ephram’s hips with a grin. “Anything you like, darling, just tell me, yeah? And we’ll add it to the pile.”  
  
“Well…” Freddie smirked teasingly, “-unless it’s awful. Then I’ll pretend I haven’t seen it or heard you.”  
  
He gathered up another half dozen pairs of Hanro underwear in various muted colors along with the socks - adding a little patterned pair of Versace briefs to the collection, and giving Ephram a wink - before turning to wave the sales associate he’d press-ganged into helping them over. “Marcus?” he said, handing over the lot of what he’d already chosen, “-I’m going to need you to take charge of this, yeah? Get it organized while we keep shopping?”  
  
The young man nodded, murmuring all the appropriate, “Yes, of course; however I can help,” customer service pleasantries, but Freddie stopped him just before he could carry everything off to the cash desk, “Come right back though, would you, love? I’m going to need you to fetch some things for me.”  
  
Freddie’s declarations from before they entered the shop were slowly percolating in Ephram’s mind as he nodded and shook his head at each new pair of drawers the fairy proposed – not that he took Ephram’s opinion into too much account. Which was just fine by Ephram, who made gently approving sounds in the direction of the boxer briefs and left his input at that.  
  
The tiny patterned briefs made him grin, though, a thrilled shiver running down his spine at Freddie’s wink. His husband was right about that, Ephram figured, about their bodies naturally knowing how to move together. They’d flowed together like silk since the moment they met; this was an extension of that, if you really thought about it. Freddie knew Ephram’s body so intimately that he knew just how to clothe it, and which pieces Ephram would never have considered for himself but would wear happily because Freddie chose them.  
  
“I’m gonna have to throw out all my other’n to make room for these,” Ephram said, watching the sizeable load of underwear disappear into Marcus’ arms. “At least I’ll always be prepared for if I get in an accident and gotta go to the hospital.”

Turning back to Ephram, Freddie smiled. “Trousers next,” he said. “Though with those beautiful long legs, our options in here may be a bit limited - and then on to shirts and jumpers, while Marcus is pulling suits.”  
  
Marcus himself returned at that exact moment, almost as if summoned by his name, and Freddie grinned. “Speak of the devil. Lovely.”  
  
But then his voice took on a slightly more serious tone; the fairy clearly in his element now. “So this is it,” he said, “-I hate having to buy suits off the rack. Absolutely hate it - but, unfortunately, here in Soapberry at the moment, I haven’t any choice. So what I need you to do for me, Marcus love, is to bring out everything you’ve got; everything worth looking at - by which I mean, don’t waste our time with anything that could be found in a mall - that will fit my darling. And we’ll make do from there.” Freddie rattled off Ephram’s measurements and inseam easily, murmuring, “Actually - bring anything slightly larger than that as well, since I’ll be having it tailored.”  
  
He smiled again, “And start us a fitting room, yeah? Thanks ever so much.”  
  
And once they were on their own again - Marcus scurrying off with visions of his sizable commission dancing in his head, Freddie stepped closer to Ephram and slid his arms around his husband’s waist. “Have I told you yet how lovely you are for doing this?” he asked, “Because if I haven’t, I should.”  
  
He pushed up on his toes - cursing himself silently as a shortarse, but refusing to be embarrassed about it - and stole another kiss from Ephram’s lips. “Now you need jeans, though,” he said with a grin, “And no matter what the ones I like cost, you’re not allowed to laugh at me.”

Ephram pinched Freddie’s hip, but soon was distracted by listening to the authoritative way Freddie made himself clear about what he expected to happen next (not to mention that easy, natural ‘my darling’ that Freddie threw in there) even if much of it made no sense to him.  
  
“Off the rack?” Ephram asked, once Marcus had trundled off to follow Mr. Watts’ orders. “Where else is clothes gonna be but on a rack? Shelves I suppose. Dunno what makes em so special. And what was them measurements?” Ephram tilted slightly at the hips as Freddie embraced him, smiling at his husband’s obvious enjoyment. “I like when you call me lovely,” he said, dipping his head to meet Freddie’s lips as his fairy rose up for a kiss. “Lovely and tall and scruffy, you make me sound like a prize thoroughbred.” Nosing against Freddie’s hair, Ephram whickered horseishly, murmuring, “How bout a sugar cube for me, angel?”  
  
That was the other thing that he’d been mulling over; Freddie refuting the image that Elizabeth had painted of him. Sometimes Ephram felt he’d let it bother him too much, being called both an uncontrollable serial killer and the town whore – the mean-spirited lashing out of an insecure girl – but both of those characterizations had targeted his body. He could change his mannerisms, he could modify his attitude, but there was nothing he could do about being tall and apparently frightening. He could share his bed with only his partners from that day on, but people could still dismiss him as some tramp who anybody could fuck.  
  
Ephram had spent a lifetime trying to come to terms with his body. How it was hungry and tired as a child, how it barely belonged to him in prison, how it had been hijacked and tormented by a demon. Elizabeth’s casual poison had eaten holes in the fragile sense of bodily autonomy he’d been patching together after Anaxis and Bellamy.  
  
But here was Freddie treating him as though his body was something to be admired, gilded, treasured. He assumed the responsibility for helping Ephram stretch his wings to be beautifully feathered, and to exorcise all of the remembered pain he carried. Two very different experiences, and, Ephram was realizing, both of which he dearly needed. Freddie was teaching him how to value his body and be more sure of it (outside of sex; Ephram was totally at ease there, which was one of the reasons he indulged in it so often).  
  
Standing there in the middle of the fancy shop, his husband in his arms, Ephram felt a wave of gratitude for the life he had now. The gorgeous and clever fairy in his arms, telling him through expensive cloth how much he was worth. It was overwhelming, in the very best of ways, and the witch felt like he was about to burst.  
  
But, unromantically: “Just don’t get me them real tight ones that look like leggings,” Ephram said.  
  
“Those measurements are yours, love,” Freddie said with a smile, “Chest, shoulders, jacket and sleeve length, your waist and your inseam.” He let a hand creep in to tease subtly at Ephram’s inner thigh, before moving it up just a little higher to cup him through his jeans. “I’ve got every last inch of you committed to memory. And since I want to dress you in the absolute best, because that’s precisely what you deserve, buying off the rack is a bit disappointing. Off the rack just means already made. I’d rather your suits were bespoke like mine are.”  
  
“But we’ve got all the time in the world for that,” he went on with an easy smile, “Because we’ll need to spend a little time in Italy and London to get exactly what I have in mind.”  
  
Freddie beamed. “And in the meantime, ready-to-wear Cucinelli and Zegna will look that much better by virtue of being worn by someone so gorgeous. You choose whatever you like the most, sweetheart. Whatever you feel the best in, we’ll buy three of.”  
  
The fairy smiled softly as Ephram nosed through his hair, and turned his face up for another kiss. “My thoroughbred, hmm,” he said, “Beautiful, powerful, majestic… I’ve got words for you all day long.”  
  
“And you can have as much sugar as you like…” Freddie kissed him again, long and slow this time, completely uncaring about where they were. Savouring it. He craved constant contact with Ephram when they were together - their love and affection both demonstrative and tactile - and Freddie saw no need to temper that; wherever they happened to be.  
  
When he pulled back again, he wrinkled his nose and laughed lightly at the idea of his redwood of a husband in skinny jeans. “Good lord, no,” he said, “I want you in trousers I can get into at a moment’s notice; not that painted-on hipster rubbish.”  
  
Freddie grinned. “So let’s go see what they’ve got, collect whatever takes your fancy - and mine, of course,” he teased, “-and then get you into a fitting room.”  
  
The fairy’s eyes sparkled. “I’ll even keep you company, if you like. I will need to check the fit, after all…”  
  
“You know all my measurements? And remember em? In your head?”  
  
Such a thing seemed baffling to Ephram, that anybody who wasn’t a tailor should commit these things to memory. But then Freddie’s palm was nestled between his legs, and Ephram promptly revised his opinion with the slightest gasp. “You memorized me like I’m a poem,” he said, gazing at Freddie with dazy adoration. Ephram had, in his life, been loved, somewhat admired, given affection – but Freddie made him feel like he was _riveting_. That was new. And Ephram found that he liked it very, very much.

“Italy and London,” Ephram repeated, the words taking on a new feeling in his mouth. Now they were places he could go, actually _go_ to. “Bespoke.” Ephram pronounced the word carefully, learning Freddie’s language. “Zegna.” He nodded, satisfied with his effort.  
  
He was very much ready to be kissed when Freddie stepped closer for one, slow and languid, syrupy sweet. Freddie made it unhurried and lush, like they could stand there and kiss forever, and Ephram realized how much he’d needed this too. A stretch of time where they could do something enjoyable and just … be in love.  
  
“Aren’t you one?” Freddie’d said softly when Ephram had murmured that the fairy’d memorized him like a poem; and when his husband had repeated those few words back to him - his words; turning them over in that sweet mouth and showing willing to make them his own, too - the rush of love Freddie that felt for him had almost taken out his knees.  
  
It was silly, the fairy knew, to ascribe depth, and meaning, and beauty, to something so seemingly frivolous as shopping - but somehow, he couldn’t help himself. He _knew_ that it was. There was catharsis here, and security - and happiness. Uninterrupted, un-threatened, bone-deep happiness of the sort that the universe seemed to parcel out to them so sparingly; and Freddie had no desire to burst this bubble. He wanted to revel in it for as long as they could.

The stalwart Marcus had obviously slipped in and out again, because a tray with two flutes of sparkling water had been left prominently for their use, the tall merm-made swirling pink bottle of the local premium brand provided for refills as well. Ephram wanted the water but was in no rush, chuckling at Freddie’s instant distaste for hipster skinny jeans. “You kidding? I need you in the fitting room or I’m like as to put things on backwards and inside-out. Come out looking like Raggedy Andy and horrify the hell outta you.” He bestowed another kiss to Freddie’s lips, curling the tip of his tongue up the middle of that pillowy bottom lip with a fond hum.  
  
Laughing softly into Ephram’s kiss, the little teasing drag of his tongue sending a delicious shiver through Freddie’s folded wings and down his back, the fairy reached for the flutes of water and passed one to his husband, taking a sip of his own and then setting it down again; knowing it and the bottle would follow them towards the fitting rooms. “Well, then I’d better be close at hand, hadn’t I?” he grinned, “Though horrify is a very strong word, darling. I mean, I’ve seen you put on that jacket you’ve hidden away in your office - and, really, if that didn’t do me in, nothing will.”  
  
“So tell me,” Ephram said as they started to meander over to the jeans, “what sorter occasion would call for celebrity bluejeans? I thought worn-out ol’ Levis would be fashionable. I must have a half-dozen pairs at home.” Ephram paused, leaning back a little and fixing Freddie with a squint. “Freddie, I _do_ still got a half-dozen pairs of Levis at home, right?”

Once ensconced in the denim section, Freddie wasted no time in beginning to rifle through the racks and shelves in search of appropriate styles that carried Ephram’s leg length - wrinkling his nose at pair after pair of tiny little skinny jeans, before finally arriving at the sort that he wanted. And he began gathering up an armload of Versace, PRPS, Rag & Bone, and Citizens of Humanity while attempting to look innocent in regard to Ephram’s Levis.  
  
“They’re not celebrity jeans, love,” he said, dismissing a pair of gaudy Saint Laurents, “…they’re just… a little higher end, that’s all. And you have to admit, some of your Levis have seen better days…”  
  
“But you’ve still got them,” Freddie promised. And then he winced teasingly, just a little bit, and added, “It’s just more like three pairs now, instead of six.” Blue eyes wide and as close to guileless as he could manage, he went on, “But I had to get rid of some of them. Their time had come, sweetheart…”  
  
The fairy cuddled close again, his collection of jeans pressed between them as he smiled up at his husband with what he hoped was a winning blend of almost-apology and coquettry. “And now you can try on all of these to replace them.”  
  
Over Ephram’s shoulder, Freddie noticed Marcus bringing a rolling rack bedecked with suits, shirts, and an assortment of ties into the fitting area - under Ollie’s careful supervision - and grinned. “But let’s get you started trying things on, and we’ll sort out shirts and jumpers to go with this lot later, yeah?”  
  
He brushed their lips together again. “Because I’m dying to see you all dressed up.”  
  
Ephram gulped down most of his flute of water, exclaiming at the taste, but followed Freddie’s example and set it down on the tray instead of carrying the glass around with him. If navigating high-class settings was made easy just by following what Freddie did, he thought, then maybe whatever sparkling rich-people party his husband took him to wouldn’t be that daunting. The thought buoyed Ephram’s spirits remarkably, and he watched Freddie snap briskly through the racks, seeming to know on pure instinct what he wanted.  
  
One time at work when they were all standing around in the morning getting coffee and eating doughnuts, Shivonne had mentioned something called a competency kink. Ephram didn’t quite get it at the time, but watching Freddie select and reject as he chatted on, as if this was a breeze, the witch started to understand. “Reckon I can made do with three pairs if I gotta,” he said with exaggerated dolefulness, heaving a sigh and shaking his head. “But if Momma calls, you best pretend I still got the full six. Ain’t no kind of proper country boy without em.”  
  
Freddie came bussing up against him, looking his most calculatedly adorable (Ephram having seen all ranges of adorableness, including when Freddie wasn’t trying at all, found it utterly wonderful), and really the least he could do for such artful pretense was play along. So he gave a grumpy grunt, putting his hand low on Freddie’s back and hauling him in tight, grumbling, “…you’re gonna have to make this up to me, kitten. You know I’m only letting you do this because I can’t resist when you look at me like that.”  
  
He smiled against the kiss his fairy gave, fleeting but sweet, and looked over at all the further clothes that had been ushered in by Ollie. “Good Lord, honey!” Ephram exclaimed, realizing how many items Freddie had plucked for him now that they were all grouped together. “You damn well better come in and help me with all these. Otherwise I’ll be turning the air blue trying to figure all this out.”  
  
Taking the armful of jeans, Ephram did a quick check to make sure Marcus had discreetly disappeared before he started taking off his clothes in the capacious changing room. It wasn’t so much that he was modest, but he hadn’t progressed quite so far yet as to feel comfortable being naked in this posh place with all his prison scars. Freddie knew them all; Ephram had never tried to hide them from his husband even at the start. He just wanted it to be only him and Freddie – and His Slipper Highness, of course – for this, putting himself entirely in his fairy’s hands.  
  
Freddie grinned at Ephram’s little grumblings, knowing how his husband liked to indulge him; and that even this bit of grumpy bluster itself was its own sort of indulgence, only for show - and he nodded his head, murmuring, “I will; I promise; you’ll be made up and then some, love,” before stealing his kiss, and moving on into the fitting area to examine the newly arrived assortment of suits with an excited smile.  
  
Freddie began moving things around on the rack, separating what he liked from what was clearly unacceptable - two Thom Browne suits were immediately rejected for cut, and a Givenchy for hideous red piping on the jacket; along with an Armani that was simply too dull for words, a Dolce & Gabbana that Freddie knew Ephram would never feel comfortable in, and three Neil Barratt shirts that the fairy knew came from last year’s collection - before he was happy. Marcus had done well overall - but really, never send a boy to do a man’s job, Freddie thought. Thom Browne on Ephram? Good god.  
  
Ollie had settled himself on a chair situated nearby the large three-way mirror in the main part of the fitting area, and as the little Chin entertained himself grooming his paws, Freddie gathered the three suits he was most partial to - a basic Pal Zileri, a Zegna, and a Ralph Lauren - along with a handful of ties and three different Charvet dress shirts, and followed Ephram into the fitting room proper; shutting the door behind them, and hanging everything up as his witch began to strip.  
  
Unbuttoning things deftly and quickly, Freddie watched his husband undress; slowly revealing long limbs, and taut muscles, golden skin scarred by cruel hands and crueler circumstances. And once Ephram was down to his underwear, Freddie stepped closer with a pair of trousers in his hand. He passed them off, but was unable to resist the urge to touch him; dragging his fingers gently over Ephram’s belly and then up his chest, coming to rest on Ephram’s shoulders, massaging them lightly.  
  
“How in the world am I supposed to dress you when you’re so absolutely gorgeous naked?” he murmured with a soft teasing smile, eyes full of undisguised adoration. “I mean, _really_ , Ephram - you’re making all this rather hard on me…”  
  
Moving back slightly, Ephram stepped into the trousers he’d been given, making an impressed sound at how the quality fabric felt against his skin and how they looked once they were on. “Wow,” he said, swiveling in the mirror and then looking at Freddie, eyebrows up. “These are hideously expensive, ain’t they?” Ephram shook his head fondly. “You’re the one what spoils me, y’know. Wanting to take me out and shine me up.” A grin touched his lips, crooked and rakish. “The Sheriff’s husband, just like you said back that time when I was first thinking of running for the position. Next to me all decent and upstanding for public appearances, two things which you absolutely _ain’t_.”  
  
The stroke of Ephram’s hand down Freddie’s side and smack on the ass that completed the motion made it clear that this was no deficit in Ephram’s estimation. “Not that there’s been altogether many of em,” he continued, specifying, “public appearances, that is. Life as a small-town sheriff just don’t lend itself to the opportunity for much pomp and celebration. But now I’ll have the wardrobe for it, huh?”  
  
Stepping back a little to get a better view as Ephram pulled on the first pair of trousers - the black Pal Zileri - Freddie nodded at the way they fit him, and at Ephram’s reaction to them as well; loving that his witch seemed as taken with them as he was. “Well, that depends on your idea of ‘hideously’, darling,” he grinned, “But since you asked me, I’m going to say no; they’re not hideously expensive at all.”  
  
“Besides, even if they were, you’re absolutely worth it. You should be spoilt.”  
  
“And I’m still looking forward to those appearances,” the fairy went on, his eyes sparkling as Ephram moved closer; his lover stroking him and giving him a little slap on the arse that set Freddie’s blood humming. “Maybe this summer, eh? County fairs, or dinners given by the Soapberry Chamber of Commerce…”  
  
“The two of us stood there smiling, politely applauding speeches and shaking hands, when we both know I’ve still got the taste of your spunk in my mouth…”  
  
“But until then, Sheriff,” Freddie said, a cheeky smirk tugging at his lips, “-believe me, I intend to make use of this wardrobe somehow. The universe didn’t give me such a beautiful man to allow him to go unappreciated.”

Ephram, gamely attempting to not get sidetracked by Freddie's naughty suppositions despite the onrush of blood his fairy's words brought to his face, started to undo the front of his trousers, then looked at Freddie, asking, “You seen enough of these? Or you want me to try shirts on with em? Keep on guiding me, honey, you got the map and I’m fuckin’ blindfolded.” He laughed, liking this dynamic. Being cleverly handled by his clever fairy.  
  
Freddie pulled a face though, lightly slapping Ephram’s hands away when he made to undo his trousers again, laughing, “No, I haven’t seen enough, thank-you. You’ve got to try them on with the rest of the outfit, love. Shirt, jacket - I need to see the overall silhouette.” Freddie paused for a moment before he grinned again. “If I behave myself and keep from tearing these clothes right back off you, will there be a reward at the end?”  
  
“Don’t I always reward you, angel?” Ephram paused too, lingering in the moment and bending his head to kiss Freddie with a lower, more intimate promise: “…especially when you’re a good boy. And right now you’re the goodest.”  
  
“You do,” Freddie confirmed with a smile, returning Ephram’s kiss, as the rest of his husband’s words sparked something soft and deep inside of him; breathing, “…thank-you, Daddy,” into his witch’s ear.  
  
There was something heady, and thrilling, and vaguely momentous about using that word - about acknowledging such a profoundly private intimacy - here, and the fairy smiled, kissing Ephram one more time before refocusing his attention on the task at hand.  
  
After Freddie left that one little word tucked against Ephram’s ear -- _daddy_ \-- he’d needed the redirection. Because Jesus Lord, it went straight through him like a bolt, tightening in his groin. What an unexpected and improbable corner they’d turned that night; and how right it felt, to have this between them, in the ever-fluid parameters of their relationship.  
  
“Y'know, if I had my way,” he growled, voice low and possessive as he gave and gave in to his earlier impulses, “you’d _always_ have the taste of my spunk in your mouth. I’d never let it fade, Freddie. I’d sort you out good and proper.” Ephram grinned a little at that – still with a foxish carnivorous heat to it – and said, “I never had nobody say that to me before until you did, remember, honey? That time you begged me to come home and sort you out. Fuck, I couldn’t get my hands on you fast enough.”  
  
Freddie couldn’t help but lick his lips when Ephram talked about filling his mouth; the look in his husband’s eyes and the tone of his voice making Freddie hungry for it and wetting the tip of his cock where it was trapped in his trousers; nearly tempting him to his knees right there and then.  
  
“I fight the urge to send that same text at least three times every day,” he murmured, grinning back when the corners of Ephram’s mouth curled up into a smile, “Because I _need_ sorting, Ephram; and you’re the only one who knows how to do it properly.”  
  
“Remember how you laid me on the stairs,” he went on, his voice like sandpaper, “-and just _took_ me? Fucking me like you were starved for it?” Freddie leaned up to let his lips brush at Ephram’s jawline, “Do you remember what you said?”  
  
He lingered for a moment, thinking of it; one beat, and then two… and then took a deep breath, laughing softly. “God, if we keep going like that, getting clothes on you will be my absolute last priority.” Freddie kissed Ephram’s lips, and admonished him teasingly, “Set an example, yeah? I’m trying to behave myself.”

“I said a whole bunch of things,” Ephram laughed quietly, tilting his head to allow Freddie better access to his jawline, feeling a pulse of heat in his own cock at the memory. “I could barely make the drive home, knowing you was waiting for me at the end of it. Couldn’t even take the time to fetch the keys out the car or shut the front door, if I recall correctly.”  
  
He pressed his fingertips in the small of Freddie’s back, murmuring huskily, “…but what I remember most is telling you that you’re allowed to share your body only because I allow it. That you’re mine, first and most importantly, that there ain’t nobody can fuck you the way I do, Freddie. Nobody in this whole wide world.” His voice dipped even lower. “You’re my sweet boy, and if you need seeing to, I’m the man you’ll get it from.”  
  
It was a good thing that Freddie offered a kiss in reply and a laughing directive to keep their minds from straying into the gutter, because Ephram had been getting to a point where he was ready to knock over the rack of clothes, shove Freddie down on the pile, and fuck him till his fairy’d screamed himself hoarse. He still might, Ephram thought, but he kept it to himself and nodded, smiling.

"I'll try. But no guarantees." Freddie's getting him dressed all flew by in a whirl, his fairy’s hands sure and exacting, and by the time he turned Ephram to look in the mirror, Ephram could barely take in his image. He was too captivated by Freddie’s reflection, the unbounded joy on his face.  
  
For all that Freddie claimed his delights in life comprised chiefly of shallow, beautiful, expensive things that meant very little in the end, he sure as hell lit up from the inside when he was allowed to care for his lovers. Ephram felt almost blinded with love, fiercely grateful that he was allowed to see Freddie Watts be the man he was always intended to be.  
  
Reaching for the closest shirt, having already unbuttoned all three, Freddie helped Ephram into it, doing it up quickly, and tucking it in for him - smiling as he worked, reveling in the chance to fuss with impunity - before grabbing the suit jacket as well, and sliding it up over his husband’s shoulders. Plucking at seams, and smoothing out wrinkles, he fastened the top button on the jacket, giving the collar of the shirt one last little adjustment, and then stepped back to take in the full effect. “God, you’re stunning,” he murmured, before turning Ephram to face the mirror on the opposite wall.  
  
“So… what do you think, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, beaming from just behind Ephram’s shoulder, “Do you like it? How does it feel?”

“I feel great,” Ephram said, simply but heartfelt. He put his hand over Freddie’s on his shoulder. “I like it more than I can properly say, sweetheart.”  
  
It was hard to break his gaze on Freddie, but Ephram figured he should look at his husband’s hard work and shifted his eyes to his own reflection. For a moment he was just quiet, his lower jaw shifting to one side, and then he turned his head to look at Freddie, cautious surprise in every line of his face. “You ... you glamoured me?” Ephram asked, tentatively, glancing back at the mirror and then Freddie again.  
  
Once his husband was dressed, facing the mirror, and looking, in Freddie’s opinion, the sort of prepossessing that many aspire to and very few ever achieve, assuring Freddie that he felt good, and that he liked it, the fairy could think of nothing else. He was so proud, so ridiculously happy, that he was fit to burst.  
  
...Right up until Ephram - having finally given himself a genuine look - turned back to him to ask if it was a glamour. Because in that moment, the fairy’s heart broke, just a little, that it should seem so utterly unbelievable to the man that he loved that he could simply be beautiful all on his own.  
  
“No, love,” he said softly, giving Ephram’s face a gentle touch and then turning him back to face his reflection again, “I didn’t do a thing.”  
  
“That’s all you.”  
  
“Look how gorgeous you are, eh?” Freddie reached down and threaded their fingers together as they both looked into the mirror. “Is it any wonder I love to show you off?”  
  
A smile resurfaced, small at first but then more unselfconsciously as Ephram really looked at himself in the mirror, Freddie standing next to him this time. “I’m just not–” he started, and stopped, raising his free hand to rub compulsively at his beard, then dragging at his eyelids before letting go. “The only times I ever looked this good,” Ephram said, his hand clinging to Freddie’s, “is when the demon fixed me up. Dressed me up all fancy and … well.” Ephram shifted from foot to foot, a tiny frown appearing between his eyebrows as he swiveled slightly, inspecting himself.  
  
He came back facing front again, never having let go of Freddie’s hand, and smoothed his palm down his front. “But it wasn’t me, though,” he said, voice stronger as he threw back his shoulders and let himself reach his full height. “Anaxis. It might have made me pretty but it was never _me_.” Ephram caught Freddie’s gaze in the mirror and smiled, wide and open-mouthed, almost doglike in the simple, glorious joy of the moment. “Freddie. This actually _looks_ like me.” Ephram laughed, delighted. “And I look fuckin’ _good_!!”  
  
Freddie watched as Ephram slowly acclimated to his reflection, to this brushed up version of himself; unsure at first, and then gradually, beautifully, opening himself up to it. Squaring his shoulders and standing up straighter, sheer unadulterated happiness shining from his eyes as he met Freddie’s in the mirror; his smile so bright that it stole the fairy’s breath. And Freddie returned it with a grin of his own, feeling almost drunk on an incredible cocktail of pride, and lust, and happiness.  
  
“Sweetheart,” he said, squeezing Ephram’s fingers, “-first off, you look better than good. You look fucking _wonderful_ \- and it’s taking absolutely all of my willpower not to start tearing these clothes right back off you…”  
  
“Honestly,” he murmured, still half-hard in his trousers, Ephram’s words from before - possessive and seductive - still lingering in his ears, “-you have no idea what you do to me sometimes, love…” He nuzzled lightly at Ephram’s shoulder, unable to help himself, and then smiled a little softer, meeting his husband’s eyes again in the mirror.  
  
“And secondly, your lovely face notwithstanding, that _thing_ has never made you pretty. It can only take from you, darling - and we’re all left the worse for your absence.”  
  
“But this,” he went on, turning Ephram around again to face him, and letting his smile ratchet back up, “-is you through and through.” He pulled Ephram down by his lapels and licked his way into his mouth, “Even if you _aren’t_ wearing Levis.”  
  
He was still smiling against Ephram’s lips as he began to loosen his witch’s tie and unbutton his buttons again, kissing him playfully as he stripped him, and tossing it all onto the bench behind them. “We’re taking all of those,” he murmured.  
  
“…now how do you feel about pinstripes?”


End file.
